


Five Kisses, and The One That Mattered

by ShannaraIsles



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: 1 Time, 5 Times, Blackmail, Blood and Injury, Dark, Dubcon Kissing, End Of Pining, F/F, F/M, First Love, Friends With Benefits, Fun, Grief, Hangover, Implied Sexual Content, Implied Sexual Exploitation of a Minor, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kisses, Long-Awaited Kiss, Male-Female Friendship, Morning After, Morning Kisses, Multi, NSFW, One Night Stands, Teasing, Threesome Kisses, Unexpected Kiss, beginning of relationship, implied drunk sex, in places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 18:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12438699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannaraIsles/pseuds/ShannaraIsles
Summary: Five times a kiss from Rumor marked her, and the one time a single kiss made the world stand still for her.Note - this is a little dark in places. Written as an exercise to get into the head of my OC Rumor before attempting to place her fully into a story. The tags are there for a reason. Please read them, and if you're not up for brushing against the contents, don't read and then attack me for it. The warnings are there.





	Five Kisses, and The One That Mattered

**Author's Note:**

> I'm adding the warning again, folks - read the tags and make the decision before you read this one! Nothing graphic, but the implications _are_ there. This is an exercise to get into the head of [Rumor](https://shannaraisles.tumblr.com/post/166581992475/meet-rumor-oc-profile), my newest OC, who has something of a dark backstory.
> 
> Bioware owns it all, I'm just paddling and sharing my splashes.

* * *

 

 

_**i. The Playboy Prince** _

 

"I-I didn't know ..."

He stammered and flushed, his horror at the situation he found himself in making her giggle. What he thought had happened was not truly the case, but she wasn't going to tell him that. The playboy prince of Starkhaven had taken what he _thought_ was a girl of seventeen to his bed, though all he had done was kiss her before the powder she'd slipped him had done its work. As he slept, she'd robbed him, and chosen to remain to sleep at his side - the first unbroken night's sleep she'd had in more than a year. He'd woken to find her dressing herself, and in the cold light of the morning, had seen the signs that betrayed her youth, despite the woman's form she wore.

"Please, wee one, I didn't ... you're not to say a word ..."

"Or you'll do what to me, my lord?" she asked, hands on her skinny hips, reveling in the power she held over him. It was her first real taste of the strength knowledge could give her; the first step on the path to who she would become. "You keep it close, and so shall I. And perhaps, one day when I ask for your help, you'll give it. Aye?"

Gratitude crossed his broken expression; a hasty nod, and his hand offered to seal the bargain. Her silence in return for his friendship - it was not such a terrible choice. Oh, but the way he flinched when she kissed his hand ... it sent her away with a wicked grin. He'd never know he _hadn't_ committed the sin that sent him to the Chantry so willingly, and she would never tell him otherwise.

 

* * *

 

 

_**ii. The First Love** _

 

The softness of silk on bare skin, slender limbs stretching beneath rich sheets that rumple and slide with every movement. A warm hand stroking the tangle of dark hair back from her face, tender lips brushing kisses to eyelids not yet ready to open.

She smiled to herself, keeping those eyes closed even as she reached for the fullness of Marsa's form beside her own, gathering her teacher, her lover, her friend, close into the wrap of her arms. Ten years separated them, yet age did not matter so much. What mattered was this warmth she felt whenever she looked on those intelligent eyes; the crackle of heat with every touch; the tenderness that came with each smile. Marsa was her love, her lover, the first she had chosen for her own. Marsa was embedded in her heart, a secret hidden for the ages to come.

"Wake up, little nug," that caramel rich voice coaxed, rough with sleep but filled with intent.

She mumbled something incoherent, wanting to stay here, wrapped in the luxury of silken sheets and Marsa's arms, glorying in every curve that pressed to her own. A slow grin tweaked at her lips, a playful urge rushed through her, and she rolled to pin her lover down, one knee between her beautiful thighs, breasts pressed tight together as young lips longing for love met the mouth that had begun to teach her how many ways love could be felt. Soft and tender, brimming with promise, this kiss was one of many - held close to her heart and never forgotten through all the long years that came after.

 

* * *

 

  
_**iii. Reynard's Revenge** _

 

The knife, dripping blood from the body of her first love, scored along her collarbone, digging deep, to the bone, to mark her. She sobbed, pain and anguish combining, a broken heart beating inside a beaten body, hanging from chains that had held her in check as his men bled the spirit and the life from Marsa's beautiful being. Blood poured from the open wound left by the knife, her own blood mixing with her lover's as it trickled over the bruised bareness of her body. He'd taken everything from her - comfort, dignity, pride, _love_ \- and now there she hung, naked and shaken, grieving for what would never live again, with his mark adorning her skin.

"Something to remember me by, kitten."

His voice, once trusted, now hated, poured over her in a choking syrup, breaking into laughter as she heaved in response. One cruel hand gripped the thick tangle of her hair, lifting her up from her knees, forcing her to look at the remains of the woman who had taught her how to survive in this world. The woman who had loved her for who she was, not what she could provide.

"Beautiful, isn't she, kitten?" he snarled against her ear. "You should have stayed with me."

Harsh lips closed over her mouth, ignoring her protest, ignoring her disgust, taking from her the kiss she had never wanted to give him. Her own lips, dry and parched from the ordeal of his punishments, split beneath the force of that kiss, a new layer of pain to sting and burn as she felt her hands released from the chains. His laughter in her ears as he pushed her away; as hands gripped her arms, dragging her up from where she fell, feet scraped raw against flagstones and dirt. Broken and bleeding, she landed in the gutter, dark sobs wrenched from her gut as she scrabbled for purchase in the pouring rain. And in her heart, a dark flame burned. He would come to regret his actions.

 

* * *

  
_**iv. The Dwarven Dreamer** _

 

Another morning, years later, bringing with it the heavy staleness of a night's drinking and an ache she had not experienced before. Those bright eyes of hers forced themselves open, squinting in the daylight that filtered in from the high window. A broad chest beneath her cheek, sprinkled liberally with sandy hair; a thick arm laying over her back, hand warm between her shoulder-blades. Her skin as bare as his; the familiar thrum of an itch well-scratched, in spite of the vague pain between her thighs, satisfaction that she hadn't needed to find a friendly whore this time.

"I hear a rumor ..."

She snorted with laughter at the old joke, pushing up onto her elbows to poke the dwarf firmly in the stomach. He laughed with her, both of them wincing just a little at the uneasy feeling of mirth on top of a terrible hangover.

"This doesn't change anything," she pointed out, eyeing him warily as he shifted up onto his elbows to admire the view she presented.

There was the sadness from the night before, the whole reason he had allowed himself to fall into bed with her. "No, it doesn't," he sighed. "You're still not her."

"At least you're honest with yourself about it," she told him gently, rising to dress. "There's not many who could be."

"It isn't like I have a choice," her dwarven companion admitted, reaching out to touch her back before she escaped. "Rumor ... thanks."

She smiled once again, twisting to lean over and brush a kiss to his cheek, drumming her fingers against his chest. "One day you'll realize she's not worth this aching," she told him with gentle understanding. "Doesn't matter how long it takes to happen - you're a friend now."

He grimaced a faint smile in return. "Does that mean -?"

She smirked, laying a finger against his lips. "First served," she conceded. "But no discounts."

 

* * *

 

  
_**v. No Strings Attached** _

 

The slap of hand to knuckles, a low laugh resounding above her head in answer. She was busy, dexterous fingers drawing laces free to loosen the sailcloth-linen that bound the glorious confidence of the pirate who never said no. Hands smoothed down to gather the cloth in her palms, drawing it upward to bare the full beauty of Rivaini womanhood to her hungry eyes.

"Enjoying yourself, sweet thing?"

A slow grin parted her lips as she met those knowing eyes, letting hands she knew well open her own shirt and pull her close, into a lazy meeting of sensual desire, tongues stroking with infinite patience as fingers teased over full curves and slender waists. New hands found her hips, a male form pressing to her back as other lips sought the tender line of her throat with a wicked purr.

"You did not think to leave me wanting, ladies?"

The pirate laughed as the assassin's hands slid to her own hips, pulling her close enough to squeeze the rogue between them. Best of both worlds; hands and lips and laughing desire, with no expectation of soft words or loving exchanges. A Crow and a captain, and the rumor that had brought them back to one another ... such kisses were a sweet distraction from the chaos the city was falling into.

 

* * *

 

  
_**vi. A Silenced Rumor** _

 

The alley was barely wide enough to hold them both pressed together, dark shapes against the darker shadows, alert for any sound of following footsteps. His hands lay on the wall either side of her, boxing her in; his breath played against her jaw as she studied the street for any sign of pursuit. It did not come. A soft breath of relief released as she turned her face toward his, and found him so close she could taste his breath. Green eyes bore into her own, seeing more than she wanted, a dark punctuation point when set against the soft sheen of white lyrium that marked his skin.

Lips parted, and his gaze snapped down, leaving her eyes to fix on the soft pillow of her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat at the storm darkening his eyes, the desire she was certain he had never shown her before this moment. Before she could summon the words to tease, his head dipped to hers, his lips brushed the pink press of her own, and the kiss she had never expected was suddenly all she could think of. Tender and warm, the warrior was no fearsome specter in this moment, no enemy to be watched from a distance. Yet it was barely a moment before he was pulling away, his gravel-deep voice murmuring apologies.

"I'm sorry, that was unasked for. I should not have -"

Her lips stopped his, needing to know that kiss meant more than a simple loss of thought in the silence of the moment. He gasped, and _she_ tried to pull away, for once afraid she had overstepped her bounds. But gauntleted hands were on her, smoothing over the firm curve of her rear, cupping to keep her head from retreating as his mouth slanted over hers, hot and hungry, daring to feel more than mere tolerance for the rogue that had kept the wolf unchained all these years.

Hesitant for the first time since Marsa's first kisses, she let her fingertips stroke to his back, his side, one hand rising to curl her touch to the elven jaw that she had seen so often fixed in a scowl in her direction. Her thumb brushed the swirling markings that made him what he was, and he stiffened, allowing her to break that kiss.

"Does it hurt?" she heard herself whisper, unwilling to throw away this moment, this kiss, simply out of fear.

That resigned smile showed itself, a lopsided quirk of lips accompanied by a quiet chuckle to warm her mouth as he drew her back to himself. "Less with you," he murmured, silencing Rumor with another of those unexpected kisses.

One night or a lifetime, one kiss or many, _this_ was the kiss she had been waiting for all her life. Let Kirkwall burn; let the world come to ruin. Just let her have this one perfect moment, to remember for all time.

 

* * *

 


End file.
